How the Shepard yanked me back.

As you know I was on my WAY to Daytona, but 50 miles south of Atlanta I turned around and came back to Nashville.

Amazing how the inner guide will surely guide you if you let it. I angst about my decision to go. Wanting to leave Monday, then Tuesday, but having so much to do and lots of things that needed my attention, finally, I departed at 3:15pm on Wednesday wanting to ride all night in the moonlight...I just love to do that. It's magical and sweet to roll through the evening.

Well, my bike shut down south of Atlanta around 9:30pm. After quickly glancing over the bike with the sheriffs, we just couldn't figure out why she lost power because it was quite dark to see. The sheriff felt it best to get a wrecker to pull me to the next truck stop to diagnose the ailment especially since I was on the left side of the three lane highway having just passed someone only to lose power and have to guide my bike to the shoulder. Otherwise I would have paddle-walked her to the next exit which wasn't too far away.

When the shut down occurred, my thought was, here we go! Road adventure...it's part of the journey. A new chapter opens during the journey southbound. I love an adventure and will always thank GOD that safely my bike experienced a mechanical problem and that I was not hurt.

During the years of riding I have had my share of mechanical challenges with Tigerlily ranging from a fuel line disconnecting, to a battery going bad in the middle of the night and I pop started her for as long as I could and then that was it, to coil(s) going bad, to broken ring in the primary causing lots of oil to dump out of the bike (note I'm not exactly sure how to explain that one, but you've got the picture). I always managed to limp along my journey or get it fixed somehow and continue on.

There was a generous amount of oil on the under carriage, so I thought it must have been an oil loss related problem, (which Tigerlily is always peeing oil!) but it wasn't. Believe it or not, it turned out to be simply a wire to the coil fell off, that Mike, the wrecker owner, discovered as together we went over the bike under a street lamp at the Love's Truck Stop. Great. I was back on the road and we laughed about it all. It was a pleasure to meet a new highway hero, Mike from Mike's Tires, who also was a die-hard rider. The adventure was on...and the bike was FINE. Praise God!

I called my friends, laughed about the silliness of the wire, and told them I'm on my way and that I was going to have a coffee and continue south. IT would be awesome, too. We had a great campsite at a friend's home all set up and my beloved friends would all be there. I was so excited. Also, the beach, how I missed it since moving to Nashville. I used to be such a beach girl.

Anyway, I sat in the truck stop phone lounge charging my phone. I gulped down the coffee and was ready to go. But then something wouldn't let me continue. My gut. WHAT! ? I'm nearly half way there...of course I'm going to continue, plus I TOLD my darling peeps I'd be there. No question. . .

And then again,

"NO. Do not go. Wait."

So, I thought, okay. Maybe I'm supposed to just wait a while so I did. Wait a while. Contemplating why the feeling of YAHOO! for Daytona was fading.

"Pray." Came the words from my heart.

Eerrie but okay, I thought. About what? So, I went about asking the Holy Spirit, the Universe, the sweet Divine, am I supposed to go on this trip?

Nothing. I waited. Nothing. And it seemed like the joy for the sunny destination bubbled up again, and so, THERE was my answer. Go.....

I got up to leave, my attention was diverted. Then this really spooky feeling came over me again. "Stop." And I felt almost frozen. Folks, this back and forth crap is now taking up alot of good riding time, you know what I mean? Now, I'm super frustrated. My word, I've got to honor! I told my friends I was going to be there. So I'm going. That's it. I had to challenge this spookiness.

And then plain as day, referring to an article that caught my eye as I rose to leave and get on the bike, that if I continued down the highway this will happen to you: death.

WHAT? Now, I'm weirding out big time, -- my mind is thinking this this strangeness or is it really the small still voice of the burning bush! ??? My bike is FINE. So, what does this all mean? I don't get spooked out here on the wide open. It's where I learn trust and where I meet the divine, as I always testify. But now this new "sign" has made me stop in my track. Then the sweet divine kept on at my gut instinct...to turn around. Go back home.

Folks, this is really getting frustrating now. I'm having an inner spar with my intuition. Nearly half way to my destination and I'm supposed to turn around and go home? Let's weight this out, I'm thinking:

1. My amazing "family" is awaiting me, I need them, I long for them, I adore them all and I want to have fun and see everyone.

2. Daytona is warm and sunny and I want to run around in the ocean.

3. I want to take care of my friend Jasmine because I promised her I'd do some work for her.

4. I got another amazing opportunity to help out Cyril. Which was a big bonus for me because I totally admire his work.

and I could go on and on. I even brought my tiara and I would put my plastic glitterati on my head upon arrival all road dirty and run to my friends and jump in their arms, as a celebration the queen of the highway has arrived safely.

okay, so if I go back to Nashville:

1. It's crappy weather

2. I'm alone there without my friends and "family" because they are all in Daytona

3. I want to take a break from Nashville because I'm really not liking it these days.

4. I miss New York City so desperately and dearly, that I need a break from feeling THAT home sickness.

5. I've been in a funk because the holidays are fast approaching and there will be no physical presence of Daddy Poppi at the festivities. And last year, we spent all of December in the Oncology unit with our beloved Poppi. So, this feeling was kicking my A**.

and I could go on.

But then a series of divine movement happened that night at the Love's Truck Stop while I was so terribly torn. The LORD began a dialogue with me while I sat on my bike and collected dew from the evening now sliding into the next day, Thursday. The "voice" if you will, was gentle, kind loving. It was the small stillness. Suddenly, referring to the sticker on my bike that is right on the tank, friends, "I live life my way" - I was asked:

"What is MY WAY?" Now, talk about getting the chills, the spooks. There were many details to this, and to spare you all the little details, that, should you not be much of a spiritual person, would make you think I may be a little crazy, I will tell you this:

I had to face some things. Deep things. This was no joke. I had to trust my intuition, my gut. And I'll tell you, I was also offered this opportunity from the divine:

"If you'd like to prove your gut wrong, go ahead." Because I have free will. We all do. What highway and MY WAY do we travel? Holy cow this was getting intense, and like a child fighting to continue playing on the playground, I was beginning to feel a confirmation. "It's not time. Head North."

With that, folks, I turned around from my bike to go back into the truck stop and stopped as I gazed at the dozen or some illuminated words that said: "LOVE'S" Suddenly, the word was no longer referring to the truck stop. Here I was perfectly parked so that these words would be from left to right blazing at me. No, I wasn't parked in front of the doors to the store, I was parked away from the main area, in a spot that was for one hour only and now I had been there THREE HOURS dealing with this spooky stuff, and parked in a position that perfectly lit up the "sky" with the word "LOVE's".

Right then I just had to speak with Betsy, my dear road sister, and explain all this to her. She, also very much in touch with the road angels and divine, thought that indeed, Jesus was speaking to me.

I need to tell you all, too, that I've had my spiritual challenges since moving to Nashville. There's been a great need to work on my soul which being so heavy hearted this year, was difficult for me.

You see, my entire spiritual community that I so adored, the folks at Central Baptist on the Upper West Side, a very modest church, that was much more a spiritual warrior gathering of artists and folk, than anything else, was no longer in my life having moved to Nashville. And having dealt with two enormous tragedies this year that has rocked my foundation, I have to confess that I hadn't tended to my daily spirit journals or readings like I used to, because I know there is so much work I must do, to align myself again with that tremendous spiritual place I had been in for so long.

In fact, I felt I was hiding from HIM/HER, the Father, the Mother, the Son, the Daughter (me).

This was a serious calling at the truck stop. A test. A trust that I needed to allow my intuition (the divine guidance) to call the shots here and now. Let me say that it was a really tough decision. But, I wasn't going to prove it wrong.

Yes, for several days leading up to my departure I felt that something wasn't right. But as my Jasmine girl will tell you, I had been shying away from things when I ought to be there. She will attest to the fact that I have been struggling pretty hard this year on many levels and had been wanting to hide from the world. In fact, this is one of the hardest years that I've had to face. Promising that I'd be there with the "family" was a good strong way for me to be there because it would just kill me to not honor my word. And I hemmed and hawed about it, believe me, but I knew in my heart that I was not going to disappoint my precious Jasmine sister.

But I couldn't discount what I was feeling that night. It was a really huge feeling. Overwhelming. And indeed, I tried to discount it as all in my mind weird but there were so many signs already. To my ego, too, the ever giant ego we all have that Eckart Tolle is so lovingly trying to quiet through his teachings: to not continue south would be defeat and not cool. And I would not get to wear my tiara and I would not get to boast of riding to Daytona as a die-hard biker chick. I would not get to dress up in a gown and attend a party. I would not get to show my work ethic to Cyril.

I felt I had an obligation to my word because I told my friend's I would be there and was bound and determined to go! However, the WORD I had an obligation to was more than just my own. There was alot more going on and spirit was challenging me. Challenging me in a way that was highly annoying.

Yes, the incredibly spooky feelings I was having as I attempted to travel south had nothing to do with my bike's performance, so I couldn't blame it on that. Instead of proving my intuition/gut wrong -- finally after sitting at the truck stop contemplating this foreboding feeling for nearly 3 hours around 3:30am I decided to turn my packed up bike around and go back to Nashville even though it was cold and raining up ahead and southbound were sunny skies. I teared up as I saw the signs directing south and north. Tigerlily and I headed north.

Maybe my daddy Poppi, God rest his soul, popped that wire so that I would have to stop and contemplate. I don't know. What I do know is that it's important to heed the signs of the road angels. So here I am back home in Nashville. My beautiful friends in Daytona, I'm sorry that I could not be there with you. I treasure you all with every bit of my soul.

Since coming home there has been a giant spiritual movement happening within and without. There are people of spirit coming into my life to guide me. I mean, folks like my neighbors, one who is a spiritual counselor, and the other is a senior exec at this awesome church. The conversations have been intense. Yesterday I just wrapped my being inside the Beatitudes... Emmet Fox's Sermon on the Mount...it felt good and warm. Like a spa bath. I felt like a child in my father's arms...safe as I read the words.

My mission is to blend the beautiful world of riding motorcycles, with the divine spirit. I had been drifting from my path...yes I had. So herein I take a chance and share with you this very personal experience of being yanked back by the Shepard.

. . .I had to honor another Word and heed the Call.

-S

Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything...

I just had to share this with you. This was the calendar comment for September 19th and of course it applies to everyday:

"Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs and don't forget to thank him for the answers. If you do this you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand." - from a daily faith calendar This Too Shall Pass: Keeping Faith During Tough Times (by new seasons(tm) publishing.)

in other words:

Philippians 4:6-7 (New International Version)
6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Wide Open 'Til You See God Then Break.

I found a helmet sticker that reads: Wide Open 'Til You See God Then Break.

It applies to life in so many ways.

I like to live my life wide open which I do here on this blog. It's gotten me into trouble over the last few months. People don't like to hear the truth. They expect you to be quiet and say nothing. If you speak up, it's uncomfortable for others to take. So, they tune you out. They don't listen. And you feel unheard.

So you decide to contemplate aloud some things. Which is why writers are an unusual breed. We write what we feel, what we think. Some people love it; some do not like it at all.

Truth is knowing. That's all it is. Expressing oneself is about being bold. When you see something in writing it's vivid, alive, intense....undeniable. It can be read and re-read; it can be misinterpreted like anything can because we all live with colored filters over our eyes, our minds, our hearts. We live through the lense of judgement. We live through the lense of ego.

I do, so do you. I work to not live that way, to examine the way in which I live and breathe. But one thing for sure is. I like to speak up. If I hit a nerve, good or bad -- that's an opportunity for growth in you

and in me.

When will I break here on earth, while living wide open? I'll get my break when I die or when I need to take another direction in life.

Riding a motorcycle is about living wide open. I got nothing to hide. I wear my heart on my sleeve. And YOU?

Sure there are some things that are utterly personal, you don't share. They belong between YOU and GOD; and then there are things that belong outward....to be shared as lessons, longing, and contemplation.

Think about all those put to death for speaking, for thinking, for contemplating. Especially those that speak about injustices, or heartache, all those who communicate aloud for all the world to know....

Many have been silenced.

But the written word....is testimony. Oh you can burn the written word so it'll never exist again. But it did exist. Just like the words spoken.

We say things we didn't mean, or we say things in a manner which was communicated through a pain-body like the way Eckart Tolle will describes; we communicate things through a pivotal emotional point or while in a life transformation. We are a people. Human beings....being in life.

Compassion has gone out the window in many situations which leads to such disharmony. Compassion...to love, to be concerned, to understand, to take the time to go deeper. Are you too deep for shallow waters?

Shallow waters. This was a sermon I heard at Mt. Zion church in Nashville. My Poppi was way too deep for shallow waters. He was a man of little words. When he spoke, however, it was important and moving. Thought provoking. Oh we didn't see eye to eye on everything, no, of course not. But his words moved me. Poppi wasn't a bold speaker, he didn't have to be opinionated. He didn't much care what other people thought anyway, therefore, he didn't care to have the last word. To be right.

Deep waters is searching. Some of us, though, like to contemplate aloud. Like to share thoughts and be bold and vulnerable -- living wide open, 'till God says SHUT UP. Then you brake, and consider things.

But, maybe when it's time to BREAK...it means to take a break. Be quiet. Go into the shell of healing. Go into the shell of letting go. Go into the peace of mind zone. Go into the place where you abandon all you know and you say, go ahead God, do what you will with this wild child....this one who lives wide open, wondering and contemplating, and all for it gets into trouble for speaking aloud.

I enjoy sharing with you in my blog, but my friends, I've had some rough situations occur because of me being so forward herein. I want you to know. There are people that do not like when I speak aloud about things of injustice; about life experiences that are hurtful and thus I expose the healing journey of Sasha.

I can only say that, I'm living my life, and these are my experiences with my life. That's what Down the Road a Peace is about. Going down my road....albiet with PEACE in mind and heart; but things are not always PEACEFUL. Sometimes, it feels like PIECEFILLED. Or PIECEMEAL. And rather have it be PEACEMEAL.

I'm wondering aloud about my life and experiences here for all the world to read because I seek answers, I seek your stories and experiences to be shared with me.

Because I want to share with you. There's tremendous love out there. We're all connected. We're all one. I care about you so very much.

Sometimes, I've spoken up about things to particular people of subject, and have not been heard. So, I speak from the rooftop and then I'm heard.

Whispering does no good sometimes. There's no secrets, really. At the same time something is hidden it's revealed too. It exists because it happened.

I can't apologize for my blog. It is what it is. Just me speaking. Just my thoughts, and you don't have to care. If anything I've written offends you, or reveals something that you've been involved with that wasn't particularily agreeable with me, or you have an entirely different opinion of it, well, I can have my opinion of it, too. After all, it is my opinion and you can just tune me out.

So, why do I have to post certain things in my blog?

Because I want to. Sure there are issues that are confidential and I find it a wonderful beauty that folks have taken me into confidence to discuss their lives. It's an honor to keep those words and thoughts between you, me and GOD. Because that is where it belongs. It doesn't get posted here and never will. But there are some things that are my own personal experiences with living my life that I post here that directly affect my wellbeing. And I contemplate aloud about it...because I want to and maybe because I need to...

Yes, there are the things that I want to contemplate outloud. Wonder about. Those things I've touched upon here, well, right now many of those things have to do with losing my father to Leukemia. This tragedy has totally altered my life right now. It's only been four weeks. In those four weeks I can count on my one hand how many times I bawled about it. I should have used up all my fingers and toes about a dozen times over counting. I should have lost count by now. But, the enormity of this reality is so overwhelming, so frightening to me, that I cannot go there. I cannot think him too much. I can't look at his photos too much. I'll collapse in grief and be a total hermit for months. I know this about me. So, I am aggresively fighting the grieving process. Without my Poppi, my colorful crayon world feels like it has melted into a puddle of hard wax, and I'm left with charcol to draw my world. This is my spiritual journey at maximum overdrive. I need to go for grief counseling now. In fact, I should make that call today.

With regards to the artists of the world. Well, the victim thing happens all the time to artists and this is something I feel strongly about, so I therefore write about it from time to time. I want to help other artists feel strong and powerful. I've been through all the phases of being an artist. It hasn't been pretty. And at other times it's been the greatest high ever.

Most artists have tragic stories to tell because their passions run deep; their passions to create incredible works of art is how they breathe. We live so painfully wide open in life because we are creators of works of arts that move YOU. Your soul is inspired and understood through art. So, us artists have to have thick skin to heal from the bruises of being kicked as puppies by big corporate dogs who lord over our art taking enormous percentages of our income, for the bittersweet opportunity of getting our art heard and respected. We put up with so much that most people know nothing about. And we don't want you to know most times because we want you to enjoy our art work and not get tangled in the bully web that we had to endure to get our work out to the world.

Talk about warrior souls, sit with an artist from any discipline of art and listen to their stories. Especially the stories of the artist with no family support whatsoever who have had to painfully carve an existence out of nothing at such young ages and under insanely challenging emotional circumstances. And that my friend, is the subject of some of the most moving pieces of art in all disciplines the world over... The artist can find the beauty in the pain.

At the same time, I've written about very enlightening topics, very inspiring and moving words I have shared with you here. How in the world do I know these things and can communicate them in a way that receives extraordinary response to a particular blog? It's the higher self. These words come from a higher power and so I share them....like in a writing trance. At the same time, I'm moved to share the human experiences and how I might be struggling with dealing with something as a human, from the spiritual perspective, because I'm not entirely aligned with the super higher self -- so therefore, I'm at a loss, say, and lack wisdom, so I wonder aloud to receive the pretty grace of being filled up by receiving the insight from YOU who may be an angel in disguise. Oh, the fragility of the human experience can surely, no doubt, shadow the lovely divine presence at times.

The last two months, I have been extremely fragile.

And that is how we learn. That is how we love, by moving through things. I move through things on this blog. I expose my vulnerability as merely a little spirit having this human experience.

Sometimes I get it right; sometimes I don't in the eyes of the world and their limited perspectives.

My motive is certainly not to offend anyone...but simply to share my human feelings, my thoughts...and any divine movement in my life. And pray, that I can also share a perfect balance of body, mind and soul in total perfect alignment with all things divine.

But, you know what?

Like YOU. . .

I sometimes just don't get it right, according to being more spiritual, more intellectual, mo' better than the lower registers of existence.

And so, like YOU. . .

I try again.

And again.

So, my moment right now, because, of course, the goal is to totally live in the moment and not in the past or in the future....but in the perfection of just being in the moment -- therefore, my moment right now is to tell you all that: I hear you. And I want to hear from you. I want to know you about you. I care about your voice and your thoughts and how you live. You're awesome. Every single one of you. We are all ONE. And you are Precious. See me as Precious and a child of GOD who wonders, too.

You can be wide open with me. Maybe you will see God. And take a break in life, thereby changing direction or rejuvenating and moving forward again.

I see God in you, and therefore I break so that I can be perfectly still with YOU.

With love and sympathy, in symphony with all that is living.

Unexpected Blessings

Unexpected blessings happen.

They appear. Most unexpectedly.

They can appear when your heart is so broken, into bits. You feel lost. You're empty.

And then, like a rose appearing in the desert...there is a bloom. A blessing.

You look around like, Holy cow, how did this get here? You may get suspicious. Impossible, you think.

But it is possible. Unexpected blessings are highly probably, too.

Lord, bless me with the blessings you have in store for me and remove from me the nonblessings that'll curb me from living maximum overdrive for YOUR WILL. All things are abundant in YOU.

There are unexpected blessings coming because that's our divine birthright and let's pray for the reduction of ego and the gift of awareness to welcome the opportunities.

Good news: My book cover is changing - thanks to GOD working through my mighty editor and my kevetching - and the cover will now be far better than I could have imagined, too....

xoS

The man of my world.

My beautiful Daddy Poppi, the man of my world. I adored my father beyond measure. While I was in Sturgis due diligently interviewing for the Miss Sturgis contest, I went to the mountain, Bear Butte, to find peace, and to be with my Daddy Poppi in spirit. To leave a prayer tie for him to let him know how GOLD he is to me. Pure. Precious.

My friends and family, I am crushed to lose my friend and father. Now more than ever I'd love to just crawl into his lap and feel his beautiful father energy just sooth my soul. I know he's transferred to spirit form and it was his time to be rescued from the ravages of Leukemia that took his strapping Irish build down to my weight and stature....tiny. I traveled with the bandana that I wore on my head, the day and evening he passed. That bandana which he caressed in his frail hands and looked deep into my eyes to let me know how much he loved his wild child, before he departed.

I couldn't bear to see my Daddy Poppi in a coffin, so didn't go to the memorial. I sat quietly in my home and on the banks of the river. To see a disintegrated body laying in a wooden box would have been a nightmare for me. The only place I could make sense of this was at home visualizing his spirit surrounding me.

The comforts of my Nashville home was a place I didn't want to leave to make that journey to Sturgis. But I was loyal...loyal to my entry into that silly contest that turned out to be weird. Dedicated to those who supported my entry and the goal of being a strong ambassador for Sturgis Rally and the sponsors, girls who ride, everything awesome about our rider lifestyle. My Daddy Poppi was happy about my trying for a contest like this. It took a long time for me to hit "submitt" on that entry form. I'd never done anything like it before. It was a goal to be a breakthrough I guess, as a real girl rider and true participant of the rally lifestyle, especially since Sturgis is my very favorite. Sort of like the way the Dove commercials feature real girls instead of models. After all, that's what the Sturgis Bike Week people kept bringing up to me during the contest process, how they would like to see more real female riders enter the contest.

I kept that photo shown above of my Daddy Poppi that I took and placed in the passenger seat. I cried and held that photo the whole time. I went through all kinds of weather, snow, sleet, driving rain....to get to Sturgis. I felt protected with my photo of my father clutched against me. I spoke to God and my earth father quite a bit. I don't think I realize the full impact yet...it seems like I can just pick up the phone and call Daddy Poppi. Not so. See how the photo is cradled into the rock? That's of one of my favorite stops along the Bear Butte trail. I recommend that you hug that rock and pray about whatever comes to your heart. The rock is warm and solid. so when you feel like you may have a chill from the darkness of the world, you can feel the warmth and be enlightened. Bear Butte is not about going for an exercise climb, like one local had mentioned she loves to do....I was hoping she'd follow her motive with, and to stand atop the mountain, is to be held in the arms high, by the essence of mother earth and you are her child and she is showing her child to the world and letting the world know that you belong to her; You are a child of mother earth and father sky. The perfect location to give thanks and receive spiritual direction.

God turns strange journeys into opportunities for divine intervention. Someday, you'll know all the details. I ended up driving to Denver after the Sturgis Bike Week committee meeting to see my aunt, my father's sister. She didn't get a chance to say goodbye. We sat and looked at photos. I didn't cry....because I knew if I let one tear fall, I was done fer. I'd be totally inconsolable because I hadn't gotten to that deep cry. It was important to be strong for her. I feel it close by...it's right here with me...the tears. That deep soulful movement. I'm trying to keep control over it. I don't know for how long I can hold back the onslaught of tears I need to have... I had a bit of it after he took his last breath, I'll tell you that. I sat in my car and screamed. I drove aimlessly around Dover, DE sobbing. Then I just drove and drove and drove, thinking I'd go to Bear Butte to climb the mountain and collapse onto Mother Earth and just stay there awhile talking to God and trying to find my Daddy Poppi up there in the wind. I'd then fulfill my obligations and have that meeting while I was there. Holy Cow. I made it to LaSalle, Illinois and there was one of my very best friends, Skip, waiting for me. He took me into his home, I slept there for the night. I was in no shape for any meeting whatsoever. I was in no shape to be alone in the car driving...I needed the comfort of my sweet Tennessee homestead and all my friends and family. Then I headed South to be home, with my kitties and poodles and Patrick and my friends. I pulled into the driveway of my home and sobbed. Patrick took me into his arms and we went down to the river bank and mourned our Daddy Poppi.

On the riverbank, we found the funniest piece of drift wood that looked like a silly characature of a snail laughing. I knew Daddy Poppi put it there for Pat and I to see. He was always carving and using driftwood for his works of wood art. In fact, there were many signs that Daddy Poppi was with me. That's for sure.

I faithfully climbed back into the cadillac and made my way to Sturgis three days later, with the heavy heart. But I did it, just like a windsister would do for her windbrothers and windsisters that she loves so very dearly, follow through with the mission that would benefit our beautiful and amazing motorcycle culture and rally. I'm sorry that I did not ultimately be that ambassador for us, our love of riding, and our deep passion for the rally.

Whew. I need to be alone now, all week. I won't be writing on this blog for the week dear ones. After having traveled all that long journey, which probably was used by the Lord as a healing grace considering Daddy Poppi was also a wanderlust and loved to drive endlessly, I'm going to rest, go to the gym which I have neglected for awhile with all the stuff going on, and work on the copyedit for my new book Chrome Cowgirl which needs a great deal of careful attention.

Thanks to all my friends and family, windbrothers and windsisters for your love and encouragement. You're precious and you make the world reasonable to understand. Your love is a healing grace.

xoS

Walk in Love.

Happy Passion Day. Today is the day the Lord rose from the human experience of flesh and blood, to return to His highest energy as Great Creator, Father/Mother. He walked in Love here on the Earth. Those that didn't understand and thought that such Love threatened their concept of obedience according to man-made rules and mis-interpretations about the Power of heaven, here on Earth knew not what they do and decided to expedite the expiration of Jesus Christ.

Today I attended a brand new church which I loved. The stations of the Cross were all of Native American Spiritual figures. There is a Labyrinth on the 13 acre property, and the celebrant is a very loving kind Priest who is happily married with children. In my humble opinion, this makes me glad. St. Mark's Episcopal Church offered the perfect blend of heaven and earth in LOVE.

My friends, this Happy Passion Day remember that you are created to be the image that dwells in us. The image of our Lord and Saviour who WALKED IN LOVE. He is Pure Love, Pure Truth, and is Gentle and Fun. Remember this: Jesus LOVED to SMILE. His image was full of HONESTY, LOVE, JOY, HOPE, and COMPASSION. He promoted Spirit to be in constant craving for Divine Wisdom, Divine Intelligence which equals the opportunity for Divine Awareness. The Image of Fullness.

Recognize the image in all of those, including yourself, even if such an image is not obviously present because somewhere in their lonesomeness and confusion, there resides their LOVE and TRUTH. Encourage the goodness to come forth.

Water your Spirit with LOVE. Take on the challenge to live the Call within yourself. That CALL to Love, to nourish, to refresh, to renew.

"Believe in new life within yourself, no matter what has gone before." -- The Reverend Battle Beasley http://www.stmarksantioch.org/

Stay blessed, sweet people... Be gentle and kind to yourself. Hold tight to the beauty within through the art and act of gratitude to the Creator. All things are possible in Christ. Surrender to LOVE and WALK FREE.

xoSasha

Angels Smoke Cigarettes

Your guardian angel feels your cigarette smoke being dragged into your lungs...so, in effect, that divine entity smokes, too.

You see, it is just as likely that an angel will be hanging out with a crack addict as it would be an angel hanging out with a precious soul deep in prayer.

So, an angel is determined to sit by and watch as the cigarette smoke drifts into your lungs. They may create tiny little messages or set things in front of you to make up your mind to stop inhaling poisons. Or to pursuade you to think otherwise. Because they will not rob your free will. Freedom of choice.

You see, angels cannot truly interfere unless they are invited by you, or directed above based upon some other divine intervention none of us can readily explain other than redirecting a ripple effect which could have grave consequences to way too many ...

So, if you ever think that you are unworthy of divine company, remember that surrounding you is divine energy so intense that if you alert yourself to it -- the warmth of childlike joy will heat the chill of being so unaware.

xo

Love Is All There Is

Love cures

Love heals

Love encourages

Love is all there is.

Love is Gratitude. Please think of only the good things in life that you are grateful for because through those good things, flows the healing energy of love to cure other areas in your life which trouble you. There is power in those good things, those blessings which you have in life. If you are terminally ill, think of good things, like the hand that holds yours, like the nurse who cares for you, like the hope you give another to power through... If you are experiencing a job loss and possible financial disaster, think of the good things, the love of your child or spouse, the fact that love surrounds you in your darkest hour and it may not even be so much a person type love, but a very deep spiritual unseen love. Think about the hot meal that you're able to eat.

I, like you, have experienced so much in my short time here on earth. Many times I have traveled through such a dark night of the soul, I could not even dream that there is any good. But then I would look around in my imperfection and warped perspective, and there, across the room would be my kitty cat staring at me and she'd roll over on her back and look at me upside down as if to say, I love you mom, let me be a clown for you -- and she would make me chuckle in my misery. There were lots of times when I could not afford a supper so I'd eat a diet bar, or, I'd dine on a hot, steamy slice of pizza and I could only have one....and that pizza would be darn tasty. I'd share it with my kitty cat. Or the hot bagel from H&H fresh out of the oven. I would eat it plain while strolling slowly back to my tiny apartment. I'd be lost in that moment and tell God thank you so much for giving me this small moment with my bagel from H&H when everything else seems like it's in the shitter.

Love is all there is. I'm loved and I'll lay my head in the lap of the invisible Jesus. Think about how much power we have in the love. The power pulls us through and tells us not to be anxious or concerned. Be active, yes. But pray before activity and planning...using your mind is deadly without prayer...things get tangled up if the action of praying doesn't straighten the confusion.

Yes, Love is all there is...even when no one is around. You feel that deafening loneliness. The crappy job, the terrifying unemployment, the diagnosis of a disease that will be a long fight. In this big world, past the sky, into the universe, to visit the furthest star, there is love. Upon which the universe comes into existence...on that powerful energy. That energy is ours to mend and heal and boost confidences and inspire and realize that within ourselves is every answer to every question.

Love is all there is. In our every action. When we eat, do we choose loving foods that will empower the physical, the mental and stimulate awareness within our spiritual? Do we choose loving activity when we encounter another that will create a life changing ripple effect? Do we stop to consider our thoughts, that they come from a place of love...so that we will not scold ourselves and enter into a place of self-loathing, and misery from frustration based upon the outward goings on in our lives.

Love is all there is. Love the situation that you are in, into a healing energy. The only effort is just to look at the situation, feel it deeply and realize the good surrounding you...any type of good will do because from the good comes the love.

xoS

Healing the Life Weary.

Acceptance is the key to healing the life weary. I bring to you the example of the passionate artist. The passionate artist gives all to their art in hopes of sharing their art with the world and thus making a living at their passion works. The passionate artist derives great joy and purpose from their art. They feel alive and inspired.

In the early adult years of the passionate artist, there is a need to work a job that supports the activity of pursuing the dream of art. In those early years the passionate artist does not expect to have to work at the dues paying support job for too long, willing to sacrifice for a small paycheck to support the art and then fostering the art to become their lives work.

But sometimes the years roll on in sacrifice and the passionate artist experiences an anxiety beyond measure because the soul yearns to break free from the have to do's in life. They have to work a job that is draining of the life source art that the passionate artist truly enjoys and thus they will suffer until the moment they can engage themselves in their art for eternity. Here on this earth, through prayer and diligence and splitting the life in two: the have to support onesself jobs and part-time employment related to the art that by no means can support a life, the passionate artist struggles onward. Determined. Focused. In faith.

There is a point where life becomes weary from this effort. Confusion and delusion sets in. The guitar stands lonesome in the corner. The canvas unpainted. Journals empty. The typewriter still. The script is unread. The passionate artist becomes weary of their efforts to fulfill their heart's desire to engage fully in their art, their dream work. The dream is long and arduous. Is that the sunsetting now on such a bright and hopeful star? They move through life like a ghost seeking the light.

No matter what the self help books explain...the passionate artist has journeyed through all the self-help: attitude adjustments and diet and activity and on and on ... the passionate artist does all the things such as network and pursue education to add dimension to their craft; and still the arduous task of rising and working at a meaningless job saps the life out of the artist. An indescribable weariness sets in from living a life so completely opposite than what the passionate artist had in mind, had in heart, had in dream....since a child.

The passionate artist then comes to a place where he or she is feeling helpless. Feeling broken. Feeling like they are prepared to give up their creative gifts. For their gifts are not a hobby to be toiled at once in a while. No their gift is something they must do, they must experience in order to feel the life pulse through them, their blood swim up stream to beat their heart where the indescribable love resides.

At this point, the passionate artist collapses in a heap of frustrated tears and confusion. They are weary, struggling still to make ends meet all the while a small flame of hope burning deeply within that just maybe someday will make an appearance and they will delight in their days engaged in their art for all the world to enjoy and ponder. They have sacrificed so much to achieve their yet unrealized dreams.

With water-filled eyes, the passionate artist has no where to turn any longer. The prayers haven't worked. Though still, they will lift their eyes to heaven and ask why? And the arms of a Saviour wrap around the broken child within who asks why. The Saviour in wordless action lifts the passionate artist into His arms and coaxes the passionate artist into a divine sleep to heal the life that has left the passionate artist terribly weary. The Saviour knows this pain well. The glory of love and art unappreciated in a cold, dark world.

Upon awakening the passionate artist feels completely still. Extremely light. The heaviness is gone. The furnace of hope is ablaze. The passionate artist is thoroughly encouraged to create the greatest piece of artwork ever. And the passionate artist sits to create and then pauses and speaks aloud that the Greatest artist of all move through the talent of the passionate artist who sits before their craft.

And from that moment on, the passionate artist accepted the unquestionable Greatness that desired to move through -- and the passionate artist created for none other than the greatest Creator of all which led to volumes of people awakening and following the art of the Passion.

You see, the extreme desire that the passionate artist had within was not for their own sake of enjoying their craft and talent for all the world to experience and thus make a living. The entire gift was being cultivated for the single purpose of the Great Creator to move through the little passionate artist. And the work of art that resulted was from the challenging journey of devotion that the passionate artist lived to achieve their dreams.

In the end, the passionate artist surrendered their desire in order that the desire of the Great Creator would take priority and thus heal the life weary.

"Genuine self-acceptance is not derived from the power of positive thinking, mind games, or pop psychology. It is an act of faith in the grace of God alone." - Brennan Manning

My friends, guard your souls and your craft. Hold your beloved art sky high and ask that your great talents serve for the Greater Creator. Be yourself, true. Accept that in that truth is your greatest artwork.

The Road To Dreams

This week I'm on the road to my dreams. Tomorrow I head to Los Angeles to meet with some Hollywood folks. It's fun and exciting...I do get my hopes up high...to greet God. I say to God, Lord, if this is the right opportunity for me, open all the doors, align everybody's energies, open everybody's minds and hearts to the process and have FAVOR on the project.

Every day I work towards my dreams. Oh it has been soooo hard! Anything worth coming to fruition takes a great deal of hard, hard work. Never give up...never lose your focus. Sometimes a project may have to rest, relax a while because it got tangled up for whatever reason. Maybe you can't give it the attention it deserves, but it's always on your radar.

Regular life, work, family, well that gets priority along with the beloved dreams come true. Back burner...to simmer....sometimes that happens, but it cannot be forgotten or it disintegrates into ash. I won't let this happen. Even when so many people may try to discourage the dream to come forward because they think they know the answers, when in fact, lots of times people vomit opinion as a matter of their own jaded perspective; and some offer opinion as a means to guide and create more opportunity and encourage new and refresh outlook.

In the past I didn't know HOW to decifer between the two different kinds of opinions that would come my way. Now, I'm better at it and that's because I pray ALOT. I take to the meditation...the quiet moment and reflect. Breath. I get still. This week, the folks I'm meeting with are major, accomplished, powerful. I'm so enthused because I will learn and grow and evolve. It reminds me of taking on a new adventure. My bags are packed. The bike is serviced and ready to go. I am prepared to greet opportunity which in turn equals a success.

Whatever the destination here, I will enjoy every single moment of the experiences this week. This is the road to Dreams come true. And the destiny is not in the hands of the big powerful people that I meet this week. It is in the palm of my great beautiful LORD and GOD, and by the POWER of the Holy Spirit that moves through the entire universe. My part...is to remain a willing human, a true character, a positive believer in attracting that which is good and fruitful and engaging to my talents bringing forth awesome projects to the world.

And you, dear reader, stay on the road to your dreams. Today, make a commitment to accomplish one thing towards making your dreams come true...even if it's just a phone call.

Peace, love and happy day....

Sasha

THE REAL WORLD!

Mother Earth is crying...

The Real World is cradled in her palm...she is the FEMININE FACE OF GOD. [click on the artwork to enlarge it!]

She gazes upon her little World with all Her children inhabiting the Globe and wonders why can't they understand that THEY ARE ALL RELATED?

Why can't they help one another, as I have encouraged them to do so? Why do they IGNORE the cries, why do they silence the laughter? Why do they DO NOTHING when a whole lotta something needs to happen? And how can they think that all their failures have to do with me? And that all their successes have nothing to do with me -- that they have achieved everything they possess and all their accomplishments without the gifts of achievement, intellect, resources -- and so on...without an instant of my DIVINE GUIDANCE? This is what our GREAT MOTHER EARTH ponders.

Most important, why can't they take care of the GARDEN Earth that I have provided for my children to play, and dwell, and experience their physical lives?

The little earth spinning so fragile in space is simply linked by a single thread of gravity at the axis. What can I do? -- Mother Earth thinks out loud as tears pool around the moon of her right EYE. The SUN carries hope in the passion fire leaping off its surface...her watchful left eye that warms the globe.

Mother Earth wants every individual on Her Globe, Her Real World, to greet the SOUL of another, never mind just receiving the name, a hand shake, offering a simple "hello."

No, she asks that when we communicate whether with a family member, co-worker, acquaintence, or a stranger -- we need to greet their soul as an initial communication....because that is where the TRUTH RESIDES.

If we gather in the TRUTH as all times, the idea of activity follows next.

Let that activity be an action of love, no matter what.

She is highly estatic at the activities of her children who so care and so love one another and the Garden EARTH....our little home spinning in the Universe. But that is not enough. WE ALL NEED TO LOVE AND CARE FOR OUR EXISTENCE, OUR EARTH, ONE ANOTHER. THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS.

Because, that simple little thread of gravity that keeps the Globe ever spinning - is the AXIS OF LOVE.

This, my friends, is truly THE REAL WORLD.

Love and happy day,

Sasha xo

Note: artwork is mixed media with jewels on gessoboard, by Sasha.

A Special Day to Thoroughly Remember. . .

Today they got up early. To get ready to be remembered and to remember.

But the average middle-school kid polled said that Memorial Day is the day when the pool opens and school closes. It's for shopping. Big sales, you know. It's for welcoming summer.

When folks say to me have a Happy Holiday. A Happy Holiday? I think. For Memorial Day?

Memorial Day is sad. It is hard reality. Cold truth. Tears for loved ones who gave themselves for this country. It is somber. It's about fighting and struggle.

Please review this photo journey:

http://picasaweb.google.com/chromecowgirl/MemorialDay

Then click on "slide show" - it's best to see it that way if you wish.

"Do non Veterans recognize the significance of Memorial Day?" This rhetorical question was pondered during a service today that I heard on NPR. "It is our job to keep it in their attention span."

I went to a service here in Nashville. It was poorly attended. Though there was quite a number of folks there before I arrived, still, it was poorly attended. There were a sea of seniors, with tears in their eyes. There were families. Some camped out at the gravestone of their soldier. It is another world to be at the veterans cemetary.

If this is a Holiday, then it should be observed the way Easter or Christmas is savored. There are no big stores open on that day. Just as Jesus was born and died and we remember, let us remember who gave their lives so that we can have life.

A note to me from my Aunt Olive, New Yorker born and bred:

Thanks for the great pictures. It isn't often you see WAVES any more. Like the men, we are losing many of the best ones. I was sad on Memorial Day because I could hear the taps and the guns from my house. I love the parades. We used to watch the parades from our window in Brooklyn. They were big stuff in those days. Now it seems like it is a dying art. Sometimes the Veterans bring tears to my eyes. They gave up a lot. Some were only teenagers when they left home. I was stationed at the Naval Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland and saw many wounded sailors and marines. Their spirits were always great. No matter what they always had a kind word. I sometimes wonder where they are today. Oh well, just reminiscing!!!! Hope all is well, Love Aunt Olive

God bless you, treasured souls who have passed and served this country. God bless you, treasured souls who have served and are serving now. U R LOVED.

Thank you so much for giving and sacrificing...

To my Rolling Thunder friends, I missed you this year. Bravo on a successful record attendance for the 20th annual.

-Sasha

Marriage.

Okay.

A Southern Man asks a Northern Chick to marry him. Be with him FOREVER. He's a gentle giant....loving dude. Just loves me for me. Doesn't want to change me in fact encourages me to be even more of myself than I even knew that I was. The dude loves New York City. But he has to live here in Nashville, for his job, his job as a professional, touring musician. He's on the road all the time! So a great deal of the time I'm pretty much alone working on my art projects and so on. That's when I get wrapped up in my thoughts and wondering where I ought to be in life...you know. But he's a pretty strong draw and a safe haven...all that love he blesses me with is so DIVINE. This freespirit is such a freebird. And he wants me that way. Has no desire to change me....encourages me to fly and experience life full throttle. "Jest call home, baby," he'll say in his South Carolina drawl.

I've NEVER been married. Neither has he.

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

He's an amazing person. Very loving, kind, social, extremely talented -- a good ol' boy. His friends are also really great. He's a care giver in the most charming sense of the world. He's everybody's rock.... loves to love and be friendly.

Dude loves me so much that he just stares at me with a big smile and tells me how pretty I am. All the time. How smart I am. He encourages me to be high voltage, high octane silly and pure as a Sasha belle can be ... Pure in the sense of : the truest form of little ol' me. And he's brought out some nice flowers in the garden of this Eve. Flowers I didn't know I could be.

The other night, I was all wound up -- going at 200 miles per hour. I was all emotional about missing my family, friends and home. Well, that man just swept me up in his arms and feather lightly placed me in his arms and just caressed me and stroked my hair and my face. Well, I was OUT like a light. His touch is like a DRUG, people. He would say sweet things to me while he was lovin' me up like that. I felt like a tiny faerie in his arms because he's such a big guy. His voice is all soft and deep and completely healing.

I think he's an angel. Truly. An angel in disguise. He let's God use him all the time for things. And you know what, he's rarely ever been to church. Doesn't know a lick of the bible. But he's more Christian than many Christians I know. He loves Jesus very much, even though he doesn't intellectually know much about the Son. He knows the Son, believe me.

So, this idea of marriage is a big one. That would mean that I would have to live in Nashville, though, he's thinking of buying an apartment in the outer banks of Brooklyn together someday, which would be awesome...out in the hood somewhere. I'd live out in the hood for sure. Near the water...oh yeah. I'm make it work. It may not be Manhattan, but, folks, to be near my beloved amazing family and super friends up North, in addition to being a Southern chick, okay...that sounds peachy. Plus my man would be able to take those stellar musical skills and jam with my many jazz and rock music friends in NYC.

So, once again, I consider, "Who Said A City Girl Can't Be Country?" especially when she has a gentle giant music and motorcycle chrome charming, as her southern rock.

And, quite frankly, I don't need any other rock...but my southern rock.

Sometimes, you can't go home.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/10/nyregion/10rent.html?em&ex=1178942400&en=54d190f9afd3696c&ei=5087%0A
Oh, NY is for the rich only. : ( all of us artist's are being pushed out! It's soooooooooo SAD. We love NYC so much. Even Brooklyn, Queens is becoming too expensive for US! The BRONX is the only reasonable $ place left? Sigh.

and read this latest article from Crain's NY
http://www.crainsny.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070514/FREE/70514009/1059
Tell, me, why every rich person in the world is buying up all the apartments and renting them for insane $$$$$$$????? So now the most amazing city in the world is ONLY for the wealthy who USE our gorgeous, bohemian town as a place to invest and shop. While we artists and natives LIVE and BREATHE NYC....it's in our blood. It's our pulse. These people...those with the money to buy up our little Manhattan ISLAND. . . .don't even know what it's like to ride a subway or a bus. To be ONE with the beat and the rhythm of this tiny little piece of land that is the most important influence to us native artists there.... We're being driven out!!!!

We CAN'T go home!

Being away from my hometown, is being away from my family. My mother, my father, my sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews, and life long friends. It's being away from all I know and love.

Maybe I chose a way that is, well, too hard? What the heck. I don't know. I'm so confused sometimes.

My hometown is New York. My hometown all of my adult life has been New York City. My mother comes from Long Island. My father is from Queens. My Grandmothers are from Brooklyn. Oh we bounced around alot, just outside of New York; my dad moving whereever he could find work in the early days.

New York...the boroughs....New York the lifestyle. These are my roots.

Since losing my NYC apartment to circumstances bitterly beyond my control, it has been a struggle on a daily basis to accept my life in Nashville.

I had to leave behind sentimental furniture in New York because I couldn't afford to move it. I could barely afford the gas to go and get my things. It was an emotional hell, I tell you. I left New York with an ol' 82 dodge cargo van peeing oil, and she decided to overheat and stop rush hour traffic, at, yeah, you got it, the Lincoln Tunnel. Lucky for Port Authority, they guided me to get me out of the way of the Tunnel's mouth leading to New Jersey. There I was, at their rescue garage, near broke, all my shit packed up in this ol' van...having coffee with the rescuers, thinking.... okay, I've got to be strong and get through this....

That was last year. Last May. It's been a year since. And it doesn't get any easier. Even though it will...I have to have faith about it. I lost my tiny apartment on 82nd Street, while I was living temporarily in Nashville, working on a music project and just taking a break in the south.

Yep. I want to go home. I want to be at home in New York City. My mother earth. But I cannot go home. Read the article above. And you'll know why. It's so painful. It's a knot in the stomach. I miss summertime at the Jersey shore and out in the surf of Long Island.

Oh, don't tell me about it's meant to be. If everything operated on the "meant to be" trip, then we'd have no freewill, no choice -- and things wouldn't occur just on circumstance. Meant to be is reserved for those who truly surrender their will to GOD. To the FATHER.

If you surrender your will, and say, Lord, only thy will be done...then things are, meant to be. Your will entirely becomes the will of the Lord.

But it doesn't save you from the trials and tribulations of life. No, it helps you to cope with them.

Is it the Father's will that I'm here. In Nashville? Maybe. I'm renting a fantastic cottage. It's spectacular. Though I can't afford to pay my gas bill from this past winter.

I have a hard time coping with the loss of my New York City apartment. Yeah, I shed tears about losing my home....that was only about 400 square feet in size anyway. But, it was my home...nestled in a city that was mother earth to me.

But now I have to find a new home, maybe? And new roots. Could it be Nashville. Folks, I don't know. I don't know if I fit in here. I'm too artsy fartsy...

Nashville and New York City. Can it go together? Well, according to the CMA it could with the CMA Awards going to NYC two years ago for Country Takes Manhattan. But they didn't care about us country musicians who actually live in Manhattan....we were left out of everything, except the mayor's office invited a few of us citybillies to his mansion for a CMA shindig he was hosting. cool....but I was here in Nashville at the moment...working on a music project.

Well, me being here is: Manhattan takes Country. And I'm called a Yankee anyway. I feel like I'm in a meadow, alone. Just me and my art, and Miss Gypz Jingles, my cat....and Tigerlily, my motorcycle. Miss Tigerlily had to surrender her beautiful NYC license plates two weeks ago. Sigh.

Who Said A City Girl Can't Be Country? - Well, who cares?

I just want to go home and have a delicious Katz knish with spicy mustard, and a plate of crispy french fries. I want to go see my friends play at 55 Bar, Hank's, at SouthPaw, at Pete's back room, at the Baggot Inn.

I want to curl up in my dad's lap and watch the news. I want to annoy my mother with my silly antics that make her laugh anyway. I want to have a Starbucks with my big sister, Donna, and race around the Hamptons in her corvette that her awesome husband bought her for her birthday. I want to play cowboy and Indians with my nieces and nephews. I want to get ridiculously silly with my two sisters and brother Linda, Lou, Brian....and laugh, laugh, laugh.

This weekend is my nieces communion. In Yorktown Heights.

I won't be there. Fu*k.

I want to go home. But I can no longer afford home. And I don't know where else to go.

So I stay in my home in Nashville and do my artwork. I hoola hoop in my yard. I bartend at a local bar in Antioch. I pick up odds and ends work whereever I can, while I do my art. I'm in the land of $8 - $10 an hour.... $20 below what I made in NYC. And they say it's because it's cheaper to live in the south, that's why.

Bullshit. Gas is still nearly $3.50. Food costs just about the same. So does utilities. The only difference is rent. And, let's see, last time I checked you're still talking about somewhere between $700 - $900 for a decent place to live here in the South. In NYC, it's far more money now....but still. Who can make ends meet on $8 or $10 per hour? Anywhere!

That's why our economy is in such trouble with this false reading that it's flourishing. IT'S BECAUSE OF CREDIT CARD PURCHASES. I don't know one person, outside of the socialites and celebrities, who can live on their income. NOT ONE. Most people have credit cards, or have inherited money, or something like that.

But, here I sit trying to figure it all out. Where the hell on earth do I belong? Nashville is okay....but I NEED friends and family. I've got to get out and make friends...but WHERE? Sitting at a bar? Gosh....no I need to figure out the art community here....burst onto the scene somewhere and find some cool people to hang out with.....

Oh, how I miss my little piece of earth in NYC. The little piece of earth that I hung onto for years....the humble one room that I rented for $975 per month...so tiny and incredibly modest. It's gone...long gone...now being rented for over double that. God, what to do?

Dig into Nashville, perhaps...yes...okay! ? It's a sweet little town. I can get used to it....but,

I want to go home. But can no longer afford home. But that's where the decent jobs are that I can secure that support my art. The jobs where you don't have to have a degree. It's all about experience. Now the ratio of income to rent price is so off kilter. People are living in their offices, folks. Or you've got a one bedroom shared by four or five people....just to engage in a job that is the ticket to a strong career? Oh my goodness....is there any government person that cares what's happening to our world? When one can't go home.

I don't know where to go. I don't know what the f*ck to do.

CHOOSING THE HARD WAY.

Most people do not choose to go the hard way.

The challenging way.

The way where there is no definitions.

The path where the outcome is so blizzard over and one cannot see beyond the bend. Or else it's empty with seemingly no direction, except the inner divine compass that's often times so hard to read and accept, but yet the most resourceful tool. Maybe there is fog...as in foggy notion if the desired result will be achieved. There is nothing sure about the path. The only thing that is sure is the path leads to a summit, a goal, a rainbow's end maybe. Something desire is at the end of the path, that branches off to a new found perspective, once all the challenges have been overcome, once one has been pushed to the limit. Once one has burst through their life experience boundaries and accepted that there is much more than meets the eye, and the unaware mind.

The climbers on Everest right now so deeply inspire me. The soldiers in Iraq so deeply make me wonder. The plight of genocide now assaulting African communities is deeply troubling.

Let me talk about the Everest climbers, of which within the Himex climbing expedition there is my very dearest wind sister, Betsy Huelskamp. She is climbing Mt. Everest. But, I'd like to discuss the PEAK. The SUMMIT. THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN that seems so near impossible to attain. It puts the human spirit, mind, and body to an extreme test of will, of faith, of power. Pushing past limits. Climbing is an extraordinary of activity because the most demand is placed on the body first. Then the mind. Then the spirit. Because the spirit can achieve many things, beyond what the mind and body are capable. Because the mind will place insane limitations...the mind, the filtering system of earthly existence. The mind that makes choices that governs activity.

If we attempt goals that we know will be ridiculously difficult, but the will we have inside and the confidence that we possess suggests that we have a fair percentage of achieving the desired summit, what a beautiful way in which to test are abilities and fully live life. So many of us have bottled our extremely precious energy and reserve it for nothing.... It is dormant. We do not allow ourselves to think beyond our own psychological limitations based upon our experiences...whatever they maybe....based upon the good, bad and ugly there are definitions of what we can and cannot do, without even trying we decide and make the choice to close a chapter of our lives that begs to be explored. To close the door of opportunity or slam shut the window of possibilities, because there is a degree of discomfort so we'd rather seal ourselves up in the fake comfort zone. Like rolling the windows up and blasting the aircondition so that NO real clammy, hot, discomfort can reach us; or we blast the heat in our sealed container, so that NO nasty COLD can make us shiver -- and experience deeply the sensation of a chill.

The climbers are fully exposed to the grueling climb to achieve their dream to summit the mountain. How can we fully expose ourselves to gruely climb and achieve our own dreams which nag us on a daily basis....to summit...to narrowly edge along a slim traverse, to hoist ourselves up the ropes of that cliff and climb, climb, climb! Whether we make that summit all the way to the tip - top, or not....it is the attempt and where will that lead us? What other path or summit awaits us near or at the top?

The soldiers in Iraq who are engaged in battle. Who are laying down their lives. Who are not sure of the outcome and cannot see the destination at all. It is a gigantic mystery. But they are serving, selflessly. They are sacrificing so much. They chose this path of service. To defend. To protect. To be like Archangel Michael. There is no guarantee. You skirt death. If you can. You greet each day with the angst of the mission. But you march on. You wonder what the day holds. You wonder about many things back home where it is comfortable and secure, but now you are locked into the mission. There is no time for self. Only service. The is choosing the hard way. Especially when death and mystery surround you.

Death and mystery make me wonder. We know that we die and depart the earth. It is a mystery. It is a path. And we think we can choose the easy way out of this. There is no easy way out. The mystery is in the living. Well, and as best as one can. And in service. I believe that service should be incorporated into daily living. Some kind of service. In our jobs, no matter what we do for a living, we are servicing someone of something and we should do so to the absolute pure degree of perfection. Of pushing ourselves past the limits of mediocrity and be as the highest skilled craftsman who take enormous pride in their work. We need to take our activity in life and execute it to the degree of perfect beauty...to the absolute purest ability to do so. We can because we have the freedom to choose and do so. We can choose the way in which we live based upon our physical and mindful ability to do so. And I say the very absolute purity of our physical and mindful ability. If we are born with a challenging physical disability, we find the purest ability within it so thus there is no dis-ability, but pure ability within the uncontrollable disability. For example, the great scientist, Professor Stephen Hawking, has Motor Neurone Disease and Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. But this does not stop the great Professor http://www.hawking.org.uk/ - his mind and spirit explodes into the greatest absolute purity to overcome his physical limitations. The challenge is beyond comprehension as he painstakingly sits in his wheelchair and composes books, with an assistant, who must read his facial expressions in order to understand just what word he intends to "write" while composing a volume of scientific findings and theories via a special computer program with pull down word choice menus. Professor "speaks" at 15 words per minute through a synthesizer. This is choosing the best possible way in which to live, which is far difficult than our lives.

So how do we choose our lives? Many opt to place unnecessary challenges that are illusions.

The plight of Darfur, however, is not an illusion. www.savedarfur.org - this is absolute hard way imposed upon a population. This from their website:

Darfur has been embroiled in a deadly conflict for over three years.
At least 400,000 people have been killed; more than 2 million innocent civilians
have been forced to flee their homes and now live in displaced-persons camps in
Sudan or in refugee camps in neighboring Chad; and more than 3.5 million men,
women, and children are completely reliant on international aid for survival.
Not since the Rwandan genocide of 1994 has the world seen such a calculated
campaign of displacement, starvation, rape, and mass slaughter.

Since early 2003, Sudanese armed forces and Sudanese government-backed
militia known as “Janjaweed” have been fighting two rebel groups in Darfur, the
Sudanese Liberation Army/Movement (SLA/SLM) and the Justice and Equality
Movement (JEM). The stated political aim of the rebels has been to compel the
government of Sudan to address underdevelopment and the political
marginalization of the region. In response, the Sudanese government’s
regular armed forces and the Janjaweed – largely composed of fighters of nomadic
background – have targeted civilian populations and ethnic groups from which the
rebels primarily draw their support – the Fur, Masalit and Zaghawa (notes about
our use of ethnic terminology).

These are people climbing a mountain of faith and hope to get to summit where they will find they way to peace and community; to free will and the safety of their heritage before the violence. These are a people who have been robbed of their ability to experience life and live fully and wonderfully. The horrific experiences that they must survive on a daily basis is beyond out comprehension. This is a vastly different definition of what it means to choose the hard way. Because, these dear people, they have NO choice to live. The don't even have a choice to escape this genocide.

When you hear about these terrible episodes around the globe, remember, people, to step out of your comfort zone and pursue those goals that seem impossible, and expand your horizons because these precious and incredibly innocent civilians of Darfur cannot. . . Though it may seem like a mountain to climb, choose to serve in some way, those who are so less fortunate due to circumstances beyond their control.

So, with this my dear friends I say choose the hard way which helps you to expand and grow and reach beyond your limitations, beyond your comprehension, the path whereby the resistence is simply overcoming your fears, inhibitions, and conquering self-doubt, hurdling over the moments when you feel like you cannot forge onward because your legs are tired from climbing, your arms are tired of trying to embrace the wall you wish to scale.

To reach a goal in life is not easy. And anybody or anything that tells you that life is easy, is not explaining something well. You see, what we gather along for the journey, such as the ropes to help us climb, the experience to scale a larger mountain, the basic training in order to serve, etc., are the skills that assist us to achieve our goals set forth.

Don't let life pass you by because you want everything comfortable and easy. Step out, climb the wall, serve, and be sure to realize that we are all one. We need to be the best we can be in this life so that our contributions can be used to better this world, can inspire, encourage, and give breath to purpose.

Peace.
-Sasha

Hang In There My Friends - NEW SONG.

Hang In There My Friends - NEW SONG.

New song written, recorded by Patrick Lassiter and ME, Sasha. And God. It was Jesus speaking to me on Easter Sunday. The link is at the end of this blog.

I'm convinced the song was delivered to me because I was feelin' blue...heavy in soul. I missed my friends and family in NYC. My daddy's been ill with this mylodysplastic bullshit disease and I just wanted to be with my daddy and mommy. Yeah, my daddy and mommy and hunt for Easter Eggs with the lil' nephews. My sister and her boys went to visit the folks. I wanted to be there so badly. But circumstances didn't allow for the 20 hour journey north.

I dragged myself to a church on West End Avenue here in Nashville. I so longed for my Central Baptist Church on 92nd Street in Manhattan. But I visited this Catholic big house. Couldn't see a thing. Standing room only in a jammed foyer. I figured, wow, so many folks come for a bit of gospel. Well, that makes for a loving world if only for a little while.

I propped myself up against the wall and heaved a heavy sigh. I sighed about missing my home, my family and friends. I sighed about alot of things. But I signed to, as a , whew, thank GOD I'm alive and Jesus is raised. I hung around the church for awhile, had the communion and said my grace while walking around in the street.

I didn't want to wait for the grand blessing that would end the service. I thought I'd just....well...talk to Jesus as my own grand blessing.

Oh, I whispered, Jesus, I'm sad. I ache for my friends and family. What am I doing? Should I stay in Nashville? I'm working hard to make all my dreams come true and I'm standing in the zone of dreams come true. Right there! But it's been so much sacrifice. It was times like these, the holidays, the gathering moments with long beloved friends and family NOT THERE, that makes the heart ache. The soul feel heavy.

So, the small still voice spoke: Hang In There My Friend. And then the song was born. Out of my gut. Out of my heart. 'Cause I was out of my mind with the hard core effort of striving to make a living as an artist. That limbo stage where ALL this amazing stuff is just about to happen in my life...but I'm hundred yards or so from the summit of the mountain top. The air is thin. And I ain't givin' in, givin' up, or givin' out....and it could be sooo easy to do.

The inspiration came on fast, and strong. I wrote that song in 15 minutes. Pat and I recorded it that Easter afternoon. There was no family's house to attend for the holidays. So, we held a jam session. Hang In There. It's a work in progress.... and I want the whole world to hear it because, it's presented with sheer Hang In There passion and I hope it becomes a blessing a true blessing that will help many folks to Hang In There....because I care as a fellow human being who's been there.

Hang in There. That's what Michael Parks tells the dude in the "cage" on Then Came Bronson when he rolls up to the stop light on his coolio Sportster.

So, Jesus told me to Hang In There. I imagine he would roll up on a shovelhead lowrider with a beanie cap on that says something like "Lifeguard" you know.

He's the ultimate Lifeguard....Hang Ten and Hang In....friends. Keep your dreams alive. Persistence is key. Never give up....

Check out the new tune on Pat's myspace: www.myspace.com/patlassiter

Much love, fire, wind, water, earth....
Sistah Sasha

Okay, sigh, I'm artistic

You know, all these years I tried to BE other than an artist. I mean, I would be creative, and be artistic, but I wasn't an artist-type, because I would force myself to think average so that I could secure a regular job and pay the bills.

Now that I'm comfy in my personality more so than ever since riding off on my Harley some nine years ago and never looking back at that time when I was a square peg jamming myself into a round hole which surely was the round dot that sits below the swirly question mark, I'm able to get lost in creative moments and create works of art.

The funny thing is, I enjoy being the artist. I love it. I think on multiple levels and drift in a thinking state of mind. I love to spend time thinking and thus creating. To think is such a lost art. I don't want to be just a do-er, a busy body, doing tasks all the time. Many of us get caught up in this taskmastering crap. I want to think; really think some idea through and through and then do-it. Become active and turn the vision into reality.

In order to turn a vision or thought into a reality, one has to think a long time, and begin to sketch out the idea to bring it to life...to give birth to it. And then sometimes the vision happens in a flash, like lightening cracking and whipping across the sky, and then, trance like, we are like mad professors that quickly produce a fantastic piece of art.

I like to take the time to truly think about a project before I begin it. Though of course, I leave plenty of room and welcome those bolts of creative energy that may produce something at lightening speed, leaving me breathless and wild-eyed.

And when I begin a project, I'm thinking the whole time, and taking notes. Copious notes because I like to have a plan and possibilities. Sort of like here's the NUGGET of the vision, and then there it webs into a possibility of all kinds of wonderful opportunity for that NUGGET.

I like to be in my solitude and create works of arts that have a brilliant life of their own. It's like starting the bike and going on the journey, to a destination, oh yes, but what will occur in between MUST have a life of its own. There are many disciplines in which I enjoy creating projects and seeing them through to completion. Like music, writing, arts&crafts, sewing, motorcycle stuff, film stuff....etc.

And thus, accomplishing something fantastic....from these art forms.

Even if it's only fantastic to me, but I quest to create something fantastic for lots of folks to enjoy.

And God.

It's a created something. A vision come to life.

Taskmastering a bunch of routine things doesn't bring things to life but keeps us bound in a frame of routine thinking. To take the time to really think about stuff, and I don't mean just solving a life problem type of thinking. I'm talking about having an idea that you know is from your heart and soul and it wants a life. But, one must think about the idea, the thought needs breath and space to grow and live and morph and manifest outside of the brain.

All of us are artists. Creative and gifted. And, sigh, yes, I'm an artist and I will take such beautiful care of this reality. It's precious to have a passion for creating something for manifesting a dream, a project, whatever that creative thing is you have. Be the artist that you are.

Allow yourself the indulgence of time to think. Afford yourself the opportunity to just think. And then create the thought further by writing down the actions necessary to create the vision. And then make it all happen.

Sigh. It's the best feeling EVER. To create. To be an artist. That is truth. And if I'm thinking deeply and seem a bit flaky, it's because I'm lost...in glorious thought. If I forget to do a simple routine task, it's because my brain is occupied with fabulous creative visions. Not because I'm forgetful. Creativity requires responsibility. Dedication. And sheer Passion for LIFE.

I remember working at the record labels and THE ARTIST would arrive and I'd emerge from my cubicle to attend a meeting with them and their crew. And I knew I didn't belong working 9-5 because I'm a round the clock work whenever, whereever type of gal...the artist in me. But they would arrive as if from another world. They looked at everything like it could be turned into a lyric or a painting or a dance or poetry. They looked at things the way I did. But, I would have to work superhard at NOT daydreaming about artistic concepts. I had to be a focused corporate type of person (though I've HARDLY ever really been anything remotely corporate) . I was acting....at this role...to be the level headed realist.

Oh, the excuses. Well THEY are the artist and they can't be concerned about bogging their creative energy down with business things so don't ask them about that or this. I would think...gee I wish I had reps that would say those things about ME. "Leave Sasha to be the creative person because she's a powerhouse visionary and needs to focus her energy on creating." And the rep would of course keep me informed about all the business about my creative output, however, I wouldn't be bogged down with the darn details, the taskmaster crap, the solicitation of the art, you know what I mean my fellow artisans.

For every single project I create I also have written a business plan. Why? Because for me, as a creative person I want to understand the best way to deliver the creative project for which I am manifesting. Because part of being an artist is to be a great creative visionary.

These business plans also provide a linear manner of thinking for me when I am lost in wild creative thought where ideas and paths are like a glorious maze of mysterial creative energies popping and snapping and bursting with power.... and then I can get joyfully LOST in my creative jungle, that rainforest of epiphanies and I can sit upon a star and be one with the galaxy of artisans....creating and manifesting and contemplating all that is.... inspiring such brilliant energy to CREATE something from NOTHING....from the ethers of GOD's Will for His little person.

So, thus, I continue to meet with managers and agents. These are the folks who are a blessing to the artist. I've met two very WONDERFUL folks: Stan and Chris. I adore these two representatives of art. They are smart, they ride motorcycles, and they RESPECT the entire craft of being a visionary, thinking way beyond the boundaries of been there, done that. They are artists too. Because they are thinkers and dreamers, and believe in the possibilities of new art and old familiar love affairs, like how a rider loves to ride a motorcycle.

While we continue to meet, to discover the vast opportunities as a collaborative creative force, I pray....Oh LORD willing, that this artist, sigh, will be able to secure the business reps, in order that I may dream....get lost in thought, and focus all of my powerful energies on all things art, so that I can be locked into my purpose and deliver the fruit of my God blessed talents to the world.

Let me whistle while I work, and then get ready to go bartend at the hard core honky tonk, where I am the customer's favorite "yamn dankee"

Peace, Love, and DRIVE..... Sashxoa

Jeremiah

Dig this:

Jeremiah 31: 21
"Set up road signs;
put up guideposts.
Take note of the highway,
the road that you take."

This passage from the NIV Bible spoke to me this morning. And rightly so because God the Father and His Son, my hippie God Jesus, and I engage in discussion about highways and roads and road signs and so forth because the Road is My Home. I love the road.

On my journey, dialog has always included the request to "show me the way" and I realize that when God indeed does "show YOU the way" he wants you to place markers on the route in case you get lost, you know, head in a direction that gets you tangled up in the weeds, or trapped in the mud and muck of a wrong decision. So, He tells us to, you know, set up a road sign or two. He tells us, yo, put up a guidepost for yourself, will ya?

He tells us to TAKE NOTE OF THE HIGHWAY, THE ROAD THAT YOU TAKE. So, in other words, be aware of your journey, the destiny that you choose.

What's up there....glowing on your horizon? Go for it. Don't worry about some of those dark rain clouds along the way. Yeah, it might rain, but so what. Keep on.

Pray for the right way and keep on s'milin.

Love,
Sasha